leo, four years ago, on december eighteenth, you moved me to tears in an argentina jersey for the first time. three months ago you did it again, and for the final time you’re doing it now. your love for both your country and the beautiful game shone radiantly through each and every international cap. i wish i could have started watching you sooner, in your prime, but i am so fortunate to have gotten to catch glimpses of it in these final years. an astounding testament to your skill and longevity. it’s hard to condense everything i want to say. in essence: the thought of a world cup without you is unconscionable. these past two decades you’ve led argentina to many victories, having to bear the brunt of every failure along the way. you can leave the world stage now knowing you’ve already conquered it. you brought joy to hundreds of millions on it. you’ll continue to do so off of it. my heart hurts when i think about how differently things could have gone this summer, but no one can ever say you didn’t give it everything you had. you defied all odds and expectations. there are no regrets. all we can do, all we have ever been able to do, is look forward. and i swear to god i’ll sit through every dogshit mls game ten times over for as long as you’re willing to play there. i often have this thought, resentful and naïve and selfish as it is, that one lifetime isn’t enough for you—for me, rather. i would give anything to watch you for another hundred years, another twenty-five world cups and copa américas. alas, while yours is a once-in-a-lifetime story, all stories must come to an end. isn’t that the whole appeal? as the sun sets upon a historic career, its light reflects off every cup and medal you’ve won for la albiceleste. what shines even brighter, even warmer, is the love of generations who were blessed with your football. gracias por todo, capitán, ídolo. as was once said four years ago, on december eighteenth, you have always been the point of difference. 🐐👑